


even god wants to talk with you

by candyrabits



Series: your hand in mine [4]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slight Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 16:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candyrabits/pseuds/candyrabits
Summary: so listen to my tiny, minuscule repentancea series of vignettes starring two fools in love, told through the years they spend, both together and apart





	even god wants to talk with you

**Author's Note:**

> written for ESO round 3, title + summary taken from hanyuu maigo's visiting repentance

i.

This is how Itsuki’s world starts. 

The first time he sees those ruby red eyes, glimmering like gems behind a curtain of blonde hair, his mind blanks. A boy-- oh, so beautiful-- crouches by the flower bed, blowing on the dandelions and watching them drift away with a delicate sort of curiosity. He’s simply ethereal; like mythical beings from the tales of old, a fairy sent from the heavens to charm mortals and bend them to their will. Itsuki, true to legend, is so taken in by him he drops the rolls of fabric he’d swiped from the handicrafts room.

The noise attracts the boy’s attention-- their eyes meet over the balcony ledge. _ He’s infinitely more alluring than any flower garden in the universe, _ Itsuki marvels, fingers itching by his sides, to sketch, to create, inspired by this enigma in front of him.

Then the boy’s eyes dart to the side, like he’s considering the best ways to run, and Itsuki’s very human brain blares a single thought: _ he’s going to disappear. I’ll never see him again if he does. I can’t let that happen. _

There’s only one very logical path of action, thinks Itsuki’s cluttered brain. And so, he leaps.

(Itsuki’s world revolves around the boy with those crimson eyes. They’re the healing sight he wishes to see, everyday, in this wretched school. They’re a part of the boy he tenderly holds, and guides through becoming an idol. They’re the whole reason Valkyrie exists as it does; the aesthetic, the color scheme, the entire concept was built around his breathtaking eyes that bewitch Itsuki every time he sees them. Even after everything, two years later-- he’s as utterly drawn to them as the first day they’d met.)

So it’s rather apt, he concludes, that some of his fondest memories from Yumenosaki involve that same hue. A single thornless rose bestowed upon him for their first Valentine’s Day. Towering torii gates guarding the shrine that’s exactly equidistant between their houses, where they’d made their first shrine visit of the year together. Candies kept in Nito’s pockets, specifically this color because he knows they’re Kagehira’s favorite. Round apples Nito peels into little rabbits on days he’d felt particularly cheerful.

Red as the life he breathed into their cherished unit. 

Red as the love they forged together, from the flaming depths of their hearts.

Red as his vision, trying to uphold perfection against the tidal wave of tyranny and deception.

(Red as the blood spilled in the aftermath.)

  
  


ii.

There’s no point going into the details of their second year, Nito believes. Everyone knows what happened; he left, plain and simple. Just as the leaves were turning a crisp honey-gold, pooling on the grounds of the campus, swirling and drifting with the freezing gales that promise colder weather to come--

He leaves. Just like that.

He’s not going to delude himself into believing he’s without blame, no; that would be beyond rude, not to mention inaccurate. There’s no way he can pretend that everything that happened was entirely due to Itsuki’s selfish desires for perfection-- if anything, Nito thinks his faults were on par with Itsuki’s own, no matter how hard Kagehira might argue otherwise.

(He’s seen the effects his departure had on Itsuki. Yes, he had good reason to leave, but he can’t push away the blame, he _ can’t _, not when Itsuki had broken so thoroughly and devastatingly after Valkyrie’s defeat. After the one he loved the most had left his side while his world-- his life’s work-- had been crumbling to dust around him.)

So no, he’s not going to pretend it never happened. They’d both made mistakes, had refused to communicate, had been stubborn, thick-headed, prideful. Foolish and young, their codependency, whatever they had built together, was unsustainable- it brought them out of their shells, yes, but they also pushed each other to the brink of collapse along the way. 

Nito was lucky, that his kids had found their way to him. Itsuki… had Kagehira, the dedicated, beautiful soul who’d followed him to Yumenosaki after a mere glance at him. The boy who had carried a whole unit on his shoulders for _ months _ after Nito had left, with no prior training or preparation.

(Some days, Nito thinks that Itsuki would’ve been better off fawning over Kagehira instead. How charming their love would be, stunning as diamonds emerging from coal, and infinitely more precious.

But Nito sees the same look Itsuki directs at him when he thinks he isn’t looking in Kagehira’s eyes. Always trailing, always aware of the blonde child in his class. His best friend, his confidant. Nito knows they’re close, knows that she had given Kagehira what he and Itsuki couldn’t; a steady, unwavering pillar to lean on, anytime, anywhere. The child has the same forlorn look on her face too, sometimes, and it shows in the way she’s willing to protect Kagehira from anyone, even his beloved mentor. 

Nito is happy for him. Truly.)

Still, life finds a way, he supposes, to dredge it all up and throw it back in their faces. Their fated meeting with Kagehira, on a public bus of all places, sets everything in motion. All the hurts, the hopes, the things they wished to tell each other but couldn’t-- it all tumbles out. Into the spotlight, they can’t escape, they can’t run. They have to face it, head on.

They finally make their peace.

So Nito really doesn’t find it necessary to bring up old news again. They’ve fought, they’ve grown and matured, they’ve made up. More than anything, they’re well on their way to finding their proper steps around each other again.

(This leads to a rather, ahem_,_ _public_ evening at the beach immediately post-graduation. A teary, sepia-hued evening against the backdrop of the setting sun and their last moments as high school idols. Tomoya sheepishly mentions, days later, that Ra*bits and Kagehira had to collectively drive off fans (and fellow idols) who’d wanted photos of them together by the droves. He doesn’t regret confessing to Itsuki, he could never, but-

Nito couldn’t look any of them in the eye again for a week, and neither could Itsuki.)

Their story, their tragic comedy, draws to a close. The curtains fall, a new chapter opens, Itsuki moves to Paris to study fashion. 

Nito doesn’t follow him.

iii.

He’d described Nito’s hair to have the quality and sheen of spun gold, once, to Kiryuu. The response he received was less than adequate; a mere roll of the eyes, and a _ just confess already, for cryin’ out loud _ tossed over a shoulder as they parted ways on their walk home.

Now, as his fingers run through Nito’s hair, he feels it more apt to liken it to the petals of a daffodil. Soft and sweet, bright as the sun, even the occasional tangles are easy to sort through. 

_ Respect, _ is what the flower means. Itsuki thinks it fits perfectly. 

The boy himself stirs in Itsuki’s lap. His eyes blink open, bleary, unfocused. They take a while to properly see Itsuki; a hand comes up to rub them even as he yawns wide, not unlike a drowsy cat.

A cherry blossom petal falls and lands on Nito’s soft cheek. Itsuki swipes it away with his thumb. Nito smiles, a sleepy, dopey thing, as he reaches his arm up to brush Itsuki’s hair behind his ears.

_ Just like you, huh? _

Itsuki knows Nito’s sleep-addled state sees the blooming cherry blossoms behind him-- how they bloom like clockwork every year, covering the fields, the streets, painting a pastel landscape that lasts, fleetingly, for a month or so. 

Perhaps they _ are _ similar, more than just in appearance; it’s been _ months _ since the last time he’d had a long enough break to fly back to Japan. Months since the last time he’d been able to feel the warmth of Nito’s skin on his.

His hand cups Nito’s cheek.

_ Truly, it’s been a while, hasn’t it, love? _

The moniker wakes him up a little; the grin falters, before coming back with double the power and oh, how _ weak _ Itsuki is for this boy.

_ You’re here now, and that’s what matters. _

Itsuki’s other hand takes Nito’s, and he delicately lifts it to his lips to press kisses to his smooth knuckles. Amidst the swirling cherry blossoms, he thinks he sees a lone petal, softly hued like the morning sunlight yet just as bright, drift off in the spring breeze. 

iv.

Height jokes aside, sometimes, when he sits quietly by himself on his balcony, looking up at the great, big sky, he thinks--

_ I’m really small, huh. _

The sky is large, the sky is infinite, the sky is always there. That won’t ever change, but Nito strangely doesn’t find much comfort in that.

Words can’t express how miniscule he feels in comparison to the world. It’s sheer expanse is something he can’t even envision properly; he just knows that it’s big, countries are far apart, and maybe, in their fourth and final year of university, he’s feeling a little dejected that he hasn’t seen or heard from Itsuki in a while. 

Nito won’t say he’s lonely, because he’s _ not. _ His friends are here, his family is here, and he loves them with all of his heart.

(But the one he wants to see the most is the one furthest away, and perhaps that is what hurts him the most.) 

He knows that it can’t be helped; their final year of university is no doubt their busiest one yet, and during the rare free time they do have the other is likely to be asleep, seeing as they’re on literal opposite halves of the world.

Even when Itsuki had first left for Paris, years ago, they’d parted with the understanding that a long-distance relationship was difficult to maintain. That they wouldn’t always have time for each other. They’d made a promise to communicate, to voice out anything, both positive and negative, to each other, insistent on not making their high school mistakes again.

Old habits are hard to break, it seems.

He sighs, flopping backwards, cradling his phone to his chest. There’s a slimy feeling pulsating in his heart; it slithers its way through his veins, into his lungs, constricting his organs and turning them ice cold.

It’s an ugly feeling, but one he remembers well from high school. When things were breaking down, when Valkyrie was being ridiculed in the shadows, when Itsuki started going off the rails--

He shuts his eyes tight, before gently opening them to look at the sky above. A few stars are visible, like the streetlights blinking to life along the road below him. He can’t continue thinking like this, they made a promise, didn’t they? More importantly, Nito had decided that he wouldn’t do this to himself again; denying what he wants, staying silent instead of voicing how he feels. 

His fingers tremble. He pulls up his keypad, dialing the number he’s called so, so many times, and presses enter.

The ringing is the loudest thing he hears.

It stretches to infinity, before there’s a little click, and Itsuki rasps through the phone.

_ Mmm, Nito…? It’s rare for you to call me at this time, isn’t it? _

From the gravelly tone in his voice, he’d been sleeping. Nito feels maybe ten times worse about calling.

_ Oh, did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I’ll call back another time-- _

_ Non, it’s no trouble at all. I have to be up early today anyway. _There’s some rustling, and then Nito can hear footsteps echoing through Itsuki’s apartment.

_ Then… Do you have time to talk, maybe? I missed hearing your voice. _

_ Of course I do, love. I’ll always make time for you. _

The ugly feeling in his chest dissipates, little by little, with Itsuki’s voice on the line. He puts Nito on speaker, and he gets to hear Itsuki’s shuffling through the morning, making breakfast and getting ready for the day. The lulls in conversation aren’t awkward either-- Nito finds that he likes listening to the start of Itsuki’s day.

It isn’t the same as having him here, physically, to love and hold and cherish, but it’s the closest he can get, and for now, it’s just enough.

Nito dozes off like that, curled up on his balcony, to the sounds of a life he’d give his own to be a part of.

v.

More often than not, recently, he finds himself close to slipping. 

Now he’s back home in Tokyo, in the quaint apartment they’d rented together on the outskirts of the city, the urge is stronger than ever. When it was just phone calls, he could stumble through, blaming the lousy connection or something for his stammering.

But here, face to face with the one he loves dearly, it’s getting increasingly difficult to maintain his composure.

He’s used to calling him Nito; it’s an exquisite name, and it perfectly matches his small lover. He’s spent many, many years repeating that name. Recently, however, it’s right on the tip of his tongue.

_ Nazuna. _

Capsella bursa-pastoris, or shepherd’s purse. Used in cooking, animal feed, traditional medicine, the list goes on. 

In flower language, it means _ I’ll offer my everything to you. _

The first time Itsuki had heard Nito’s full name, he’d very nearly slammed his hip into the corner of the handicraft club’s sewing table. Being well-versed in flower language, of course he’d understood the meaning immediately.

(To say that Nito’s beautiful name was part of why he’d fallen for him in the first place… wouldn’t be incorrect.)

But to simply call him by such a precious name would be inelegant, he thinks. A million different ways for him to make such a proposition, but none of them would be adequate for his precious lover. Itsuki, the perfectionist he is, sits on this thought for quite some time.

Nito, of course, has no such reservations. He has Itsuki wrapped around his little finger; he could make the most ridiculous of requests and Itsuki would do more than what it takes to fulfill his wishes.

It starts with an anniversary; a bottle of wine shared on their balcony, the fairy lights (strung up at Nazuna’s request) resembling the stars above rather than anything artificial, an innocuous question.

_ Hey, Itsuki, you haven’t grown or anything right? _

_ I… suppose not? Why do you ask? _

_ Because I bought this a while ago, and if it doesn’t fit anymore, then I’m not quite sure what to do _.

He gets down on one knee, and pulls a small, velvet box out of his pocket.

Not a word escapes his lips, because Itsuki’s already collapsed to his knees in front of him, pulling him into his arms and pressing their lips to his. Nito’s laughter bubbles up between them like champagne. Itsuki’s own rises to join him, washing away his doubts and cradling them both in the warm atmosphere they’d built together.

_ My answer is yes, my love, you are simply beautiful, oh, how I love you so, Nito-- _

_ Call me Nazuna, _ he whispers, light as a passing breeze, into Itsuki’s mouth.

_ I will, _ he murmurs. _ But only if you call me Shu._

vi.

This is how Nazuna’s world ends. Or how he’d like it to, at any rate.

It’s sharing the warmth, under the covers, with the first tendrils of light seeping in through the gap in their lace curtains. It’s gazing at the most stunning amethyst eyes through the gap in sleepy eyelids, waiting for the other to fully wake from his slumber. It’s with Nazuna’s head pillowed on Shu’s chest, his arms secure and comforting around Nazuna’s waist. It’s with their legs tangled together. It’s with them so thoroughly wrapped up in each other it’s impossible to know where one begins and the other ends.

It’s with them so utterly, unmistakably, overwhelmingly in love with each other. 

The curtains flutter with the breeze from the fan, letting more light in. Glass paperweights lining their desk sparkle and cast their multicolored magic throughout the room. _ It’s like a kaleidoscope, _ Nazuna thinks, silently marvelling at the millions of miniature rainbows splashed across their home. 

Their shared wardrobe, their pictures on the wall, a vase of cosmos flowers Nazuna had gifted Shu for their anniversary placed carefully on their desk, the hand-knit blanket Shu had deftly made-- the plethora of colors make Nazuna think that if there’s any heaven, it’s right here. 

(He raises his left hand, placing it right across a beam of light. It glints off his ring beautifully, and Nazuna’s heart sings with contentment and delight.)

Shu mumbles in his sleep; he turns over, crushing Nazuna in a hug as he automatically tucks Nazuna’s head under his chin. Nazuna’s heart swells, and he tilts his face to press a tiny kiss to the apple of Shu’s throat.

A shuffle comes from the foot of the bed, slowly making its way up. A fluffy white head peeks up from behind Nazuna’s shoulder, displaced from her spot by their feet from Shu’s shifting. She sticks her neck out as Nazuna frees a hand to scritch her under the chin; she purrs, lovingly, before hopping over Nazuna to squeeze herself into the meagre space between them. 

Her purring rouses Shu, who slurs out something about her fur sticking everywhere, they shouldn’t have allowed her in the room in the first place.

Nazuna giggles, absolutely enamoured by this man. His hand slides up Shu’s shoulder, coming to a stop behind his neck and pulling him downwards to meet him in a kiss.

_ Good morning, darling. _Shu’s eyes clear a little, and his hand rubs circles into Nazuna’s waist. 

He smiles, and Nazuna’s heart fills with a warmth he can’t even _ begin _ to describe. There’s birds chirping outside their window, their ridiculously fluffy cat is snoozing between them, and through all their problems and difficulties, the one he loves the most is right here in his arms.

Truly, there isn’t anywhere he’d rather be.

_ Good morning, my love. _


End file.
